eat dog, I guess.
Stockbridge is no saint. Some man with a whispering--consumptive voice
has 'phoned him the news that he was going to die before daylight. I
don't think he is. Not if I can help it."

"Who did he rob this time--the old devil!"

"He's retired. It's a case, perhaps, of thieves falling out in high
places. Remember how Stockbridge beat Morphy to the District Attorney
and told all he knew, and went before the Grand Jury? Morphy may be
behind this threat-by-wire."

"Morphy's behind bars, Chief!"

"I know that. He's always dangerous, though."

"Another old devil," said Delaney thrashing his arms. "I can see him
now, Chief, in his big automobile. A husky man with a leather coat and
cap. And always a woman by his side, Chief. A different woman, every
time!"

"He fell a long way, Delaney. Come on. We'll forget Morphy for a while.
Stockbridge is alone. He is in danger."

Drew clutched the operative's arm and motioned across the street. They
plunged through the snow with heads down. They entered the iron-grilled
gate. Drew touched a button set in the stone of the doorway. He
repeated the signal.

The door opened to a crack. A chain rattled. A face blotted out the
inner light of the mansion.

"All right," said Drew. "All right, butler. This is one of my
operatives. Let us in."

The butler led the way through the hall of old masters, after taking
the detectives' coats and hats. He parted the curtains and announced
the operatives. Drew pressed Delaney into the library.

Stockbridge sat in the same position between the tables. The rose-light
from the ornate lamp brought out deep lines which transversed his
yellow face. Fear gave way to a mumbling satisfaction as he stared at
the two resolute detectives who had come to guard him. He rested his
eyes upon Delaney. His brows raised in inquiry.

"This is Delaney," said Drew. "He's the man who brought back Morphy
from Hartford. He's true blue. Delaney, this is your case as well as
mine. Your old prisoner may be involved."

"Morphy ain't in it, Chief. He's locked up tighter than the
Sub-Treasury's strong-box. It's some one else."

"What did you get on the telephone call? The call I had you trace
through Spencer Ott, the Chief Electrician?"

"Nothing, as yet! I waited. That's what kept me so long." Delaney
glanced at his watch.

"He'll 'phone later, I guess," said Drew. "Now," he added turning
toward Stockbridge. "Now, let's cover everything in this hous